Prologue

TWENTY-ONE YEARS EARLIER

“P lease, la mia signora,” Camilla whispered, her hands trembling as she gently shook my shoulders, desperation lacing her voice.

A groan escaped my lips, pain radiating through my body. Each muscle screamed in protest as I tried to shift positions, but I was cemented in place.

“We need to get you out of here, Angelica,” she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

The room slowly came into view, but white dots danced in my vision. As they faded, I noticed Camilla’s mouth turned slightly downward.

“Wh-why are you crying?” I managed, confusion swirling in my mind.

“Signora, you were beaten,” she murmured.

Beaten? The words echoed in my mind, amplified by disbelief. I struggled to recollect my memories of the day before, but they slipped away like water through my fingers.

“We need to take her to Signor Gambino,” my younger sister, Valarie, interjected, her eyes moving to the door.

I attempted to sit up, but a sharp spike of agony shot through my back, forcing a painful gasp from my lips. In that moment, the pieces of my shattered memory fell into place.

“Signora, per favore, let me help you.”

I was in the cellar, the final resting place for my father’s enemies. The realization hit me like a physical blow.

“Dante,” Valarie said, her voice tight with urgency. “We have to get her to Signor Gambino. Quickly.”

Dante, my father’s right-hand man, approached me. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore. Pain everywhere,” I managed to utter.

My eyes stung with tears as memories of my father’s fiery anger flickered through my mind like a relentless slideshow.

“You are a disgrace! A betrayer of this family!” he had shouted.

His words still burned. My father wanted to make an example of me and show others the consequences of falling in love with our enemy. It did not matter that I was a princess of the D’Onofrio family. I was to be punished regardless of my blood. Even my own mother had chosen silence over defiance, aware that if she intervened it would mean inviting the same brutal fate upon herself.

“Thank you,” I whispered to Dante, the tears I had held back now flowing freely. My father wasn’t lying when he said I would suffer for betraying him. And did I ever pay for it. The sting of betrayal had carved deep lines of agony into my flesh and soul.

Dante gave me an empathetic expression. He always hated to see me cry. “Angel, we must go. I will carry you out of here.” His voice was steady, but an unmistakable sense of urgency lingered.

“Bite down on this.” He pressed a clean rag into my mouth. “It’s going to hurt, but it’s necessary.”

He rushed to the corner of the room, pushing aside the heavy steel chemical bins. He knelt and removed a steel plate, revealing a secret door hidden in the floor. Sweat dripped from his brow, mingling with the dust and grime in the room.

“What is that?” My words were barely intelligible as I spoke through the cramped fabric stuffed in my mouth.

“This is how we’re getting out,” he said, his voice low. “Your grandfather built this secret passage to escape from his enemies if he was ever under attack.”

“But how?—”

“There’s no time for a history lesson!” he snapped. “I need to get you out of here. You and your sister.” He glanced at Valarie, but she shook her head.

“I can’t go,” she said, tears streaming down her face.

“What do you mean you can’t?” I begged, yanking the rag from my mouth.

“I need to stay with Mom. He’ll kill her if I leave too. And he’ll come after me if he thinks I’ve turned against him. This is the only way to protect you both.”

She was right. Oh, God, how painfully right she was.

“Take care of my niece,” she said, a watery smile breaking through her tears.

“How do you know it’s not a nephew?” I attempted to tease her, but my voice came out hollow, as if my soul was already fading.

“Because this baby is already strong in a way that’s only true for the women in our family.” She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “I love you. Stay safe. I’ll see you again,” she promised, but her voice trembled, betraying the truth.

“Put that back in,” she said, gesturing to the cloth in my hand. I raised it toward my lips and did as she said.

“We have to go!” Dante’s voice jolted me back to the nightmare that was my reality.

He swept me into his arms, and I screamed into the rag at the sharp pain coursing through my body and the terror of leaving my sister behind.

“I’ll go down first, and I’ll pull you in,” he explained as he sat me down. Just then, Camilla darted over. She thrust a bag into my hands.

“It’s food, water, and a change of clothes,” she said in a rush.

Before I could thank her, muffled male voices echoed ominously from the stairwell. I clutched the bag close to my chest, my heart racing.

“Go!” Valarie whispered fiercely.

Dante gave a sharp nod as he grabbed my hips and yanked me down the hole. The world above vanished and we tumbled onto the cold, clammy ground. The chill seeped into my bones, draining the last remnants of my strength.

Camilla cast a frantic glance over her shoulder, then looked back to me, her face draining of color. “They’re coming,” she whispered.

“Valarie!” I called, desperation creeping into my voice, but she was already stepping back. She blew me a kiss before she slammed the trap door shut, plunging us into an even more oppressive darkness.

“Come on,” Dante urged, stuffing the cloth back into my mouth. He again lifted me into his arms as he hastened through the damp, cool darkness of the tunnel. Every breath felt like a brutal task, heavy with the weight of what I was leaving behind. Anxiety clawed at my chest from knowing the danger that Camilla, my sister, and mother would have to face.

When Dante finally slowed, I mumbled through the rag, my voice weak, “Put me down. I can walk.”

Dante shook his head firmly. “No, you can’t. And be quiet. Your father’s guards are nearby.”

We froze as the guards’ voices drew closer. If we were caught, our fates would be sealed. Dante pressed himself against the wall, shielding me with his body. “Shh,” he whispered.

The guards’ footsteps seemed to echo in the confined space, their voices growing louder. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I imagined what my father would do to us if he found us. I could make out parts of their conversation—something about the soccer game, a missed goal, and cursing the referee for his terrible call. Each step felt like a countdown to our demise. My heart pounded in my chest as I silently prayed to God for help and to guide us to safety.

Then, suddenly, as if God heard my prayer, the guards’ footsteps faded into the distance. Slowly, the tightening in my chest began to loosen, and I could finally breathe.

“We have to move—now,” Dante demanded.

Without hesitation, he forcefully kicked open the gate. We stepped into the woods and fled, and I left my old life behind.

* * *

When I woke, the scent of spices and candles hung in the air. My eyes fluttered open, and I knew, I just knew, where I was. The ornate European décor, the plush king-size bed that enveloped my body, made it clear I was back in Alphonse’s bed. Back where I felt safe.

But the bruises on my body were a reminder of why I shouldn’t be here. Every ache and bruise told a story of what my father was capable of and wouldn’t hesitate to do again. I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in my side had me wincing.

“Easy, bellissima,” a deep, gravelly voice rumbled from the shadows. There he was, Alphonse Gambino, standing in the doorway. His very presence made my heart race and made me feel comforted. But his expression, a mix of concern and fury, only added to the anxiety raging within me.

Alphonse strode over and knelt by my side, his eyes burning with intensity. “You’re safe, Angelica.” He shook his head. “Why did you go to him? I knew he would allow his men to do this,” he said angrily, looking up and down my broken body.

I cringed at the memory of my father’s men, their fists raining down on me as I tried to plead my case.

An unsettling chill crawled up my spine the moment I stepped inside the house. Something was wrong.

I ventured further into the main room and was met with my family’s cold, hard stares. My father sat in the armchair, a glass of whiskey gripped tightly in one hand, the other clutching a newspaper. And my mother sat in a chair beside him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

This was bad. Very bad.

“Angelica,” my father said, his voice low and dangerous, a warning bell ringing in my ears, “we need to talk.”

My heart thundered in my chest as I approached, my voice trembling. “Is something wrong?”

“Where have you been?”

They knew.

Deep down, I knew I couldn’t keep our relationship a secret for much longer. Ultimately, our relationship was doomed from the beginning, but I believed our love for one another was strong enough to face whatever came our way.

Taking a deep breath, I steadied myself against the weight of his gaze. “I was with Alphonse Gambino.”

His face contorted with rage. “So, it was true?”

“Papa...”

He raised his hand to silence me. “What the hell were you thinking, talking to Alphonse Gambino?” he demanded. “Our families are enemies, Angelica. Or have you forgotten that?”

“No, Papa. I haven’t forgotten,” I replied. “But I love him.”

His expression twisted into a grimace, his brows knitting together like dark storm clouds. “You’re in love with him?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

I didn’t understand why my father insisted on viewing the Gambinos as our enemies. It was my grandfather who put a hit on them, not the other way around.

Papa pushed himself off the chair and stood tall. “Be careful, Angelica. You’re about to cross a very dangerous line?”

“Papa, I can’t help who I love. Alphonse is a good man. He is not the enemy. He’s ? —”

Papa let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head in disgust. “A good man? You think he cares about you?” he interrupted. “He will use you to get to me, Angelica!” He slammed his fist against his chest.

A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. The room seemed to shrink as he silently stared at me, his breath ragged with a murderous look on his face.

“You’re wrong, Papa. If you just gave him a chance, you’d see ? —”

Papa’s face hardened as he closed the distance between us, his tall frame looming over me. “You think I would welcome him—our enemy—to my home? You’ve forgotten your place in this family. It looks like I’ll have to remind you of who you should be loyal to.”

“Is that a threat?” I scoffed, bitterness lacing my words. “You would actually hurt me? Your own daughter?”

“Angelica, you are willing to put him before your own family despite the history between us. Do you expect us to turn the other way?”

“No!” I shouted, the words spilling out before I could stop myself. “What I expected was for your support and understanding. I’m telling you because—because I’m pregnant.”

A cold silence fell between us. My mother gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

My father’s expression shifted from anger to something darker. His body stiffened, and his face turned an alarming shade of red, as if his blood was boiling beneath his skin. I took another step back but stopped when the backs of my legs hit the couch.

“Tell me you’re lying, Angelica. Please tell me you are mistaken.” He stepped closer until he was just an arm’s length away. “TELL ME!” he shouted.

“Papa, please understand,” I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice.

With a roar, Papa raised the newspaper above his head. “Silence! You will not disgrace our family! You will get rid of that abomination growing inside you!"

“No, I will not ? —”

But before I could finish, the newspaper came down hard across my face, stinging my cheek. I stumbled back with my hand to my cheek, the world spinning as tears blurred my vision.

His eyes narrowed to slits. “You think I’ll let you carry that bastard’s child?” he snarled. “You did this to yourself. Remember that during every lash you receive for your betrayal and lies. I will not stand by and watch my daughter consort with our enemy. You will not bring shame to this family. Do you understand me?”

I gave him a quick nod, and everything around me faded into darkness.

“Angelica?” Alphonse’s smooth voice brought me back to the present.

“I had to try,” I whispered. I thought I could make him understand. Our families don’t have to be enemies.

Alphonse’s voice rose slightly. “Your father had you beaten half to death!”

My eyes stung with fresh tears as my new reality sunk in. “I never thought he’d hurt me. I thought…”

“You didn’t think,” Alphonse cut in. “That’s the problem, Angelica. You didn’t consider the consequences. I told you to let me handle this.” He gently brushed a stray tear from my cheek. “I can’t lose you.”

“I thought I could change things,” I murmured, pleading with him to understand. “I thought I could make him see that our love is worth more than a grudge.”

Alphonse’s expression softened, but his tone was hard. “Angelica, you changed the rules of the game when you confronted your father. You can’t stay here. You have to run and hide.”

“Hide?” I protested, my voice rising in panic. “No. My life is here?—”

“You won’t have a fucking life if you stay!” Alphonse interrupted. “He will hunt you down and show you no mercy, and I refuse to watch the love of my life be killed in front of my eyes.”

“But they’re my family,” I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks. Dante, Camilla, my sister, and my mother—I’d never see any of them again.

Alphonse leaned closer, his breath warm on my face. “Family?” he growled. “Your family is who did this to you!” He gestured to my body. “The moment you chose me over him, you became expendable.”

I bowed my head. “I wanted to be brave, Alphonse. To stand up for you , for us , for our love.”

“Bravery is knowing when to fight and when to flee. It’s not jumping into the lion’s den and believing you won’t get ripped apart. It’s knowing when to disappear, Angelica.”

“But where will I go?” I asked, looking back up at him. “What if we can’t be together? What if?—”

“Shh,” Alphonse soothed, his concern momentarily forgotten as he wiped my tears away. “Listen to me, Angelica. For this to work, I cannot know where you are or who you will become. You’ll never be safe, ever, if I know.”

There was a short moment of silence as I absorbed what he said. I hated that we had found ourselves in this situation. Breaking the silence, he spoke again.

“I can’t protect you here; not while your father is alive. You have to understand,” he continued, urgency creeping into his tone, “I’d burn the world down for you, but I need you to make the choice that will keep you alive.”

The air between us was filled with unspoken tension and longing. Shadows swayed across the walls, flickering in rhythm with the candlelight. I sat on the edge of the bed, my heart pounding, breaths shallow and uneven as Alphonse leaned in closer, emanating with a force to be reckoned with that I could barely grasp. His deep, intense gaze met mine, and his dark eyes shimmered with tears. “Angelica,” he whispered, each syllable curling around my heart, “you won’t lose me. I promise. We’ll find a way to be together. But first, you have to trust me enough to leave this place behind. I can’t let you face him again. Please, Angelica. Ti amo. Sei mio per sempre.”

Before I could respond—before the words could find their way to my lips—Alphonse closed the distance between us, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, tentative kiss. Time seemed to slow, and I melted into him, the warmth of his body igniting a flicker of hope within me. A brief, beautiful escape from the pain that had intertwined our lives like a thorny vine. But just as quickly as it began, a violent crash shattered our moment. The door burst open, slamming against the wall with a force that reverberated through the room. Alphonse jerked back and stood in front of me, blocking me from the intruders. He yanked his gun from his waistband, pointing it toward the doorway. His men, clad in black suits, eyes sharp and alert, flooded the room.

“Boss!” one of them shouted, his voice slicing through the air like a knife.

“What is it?” Alphonse demanded, lowering the gun to his side.

“Giuseppe D’Onofrio just dumped his right-hand man on the front lawn.”

My father killed him?

The words struck me like a physical blow. I felt the blood drain from my face, my heart sinking like a stone in a bottomless well.

Dante .

He paid the price for my freedom. I could hardly bear it. Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over as my grief, suffocating and relentless, crashed down upon me.

“No,” I gasped. “No! They killed him because of me! It’s my fault!”

Alphonse turned to me, his expression fierce yet tender. “Angelica, listen to me. This isn’t your fault. Dante made his choice. That was his duty, and one he took seriously. He knew the risks that came with protecting you.”

But my sobs grew louder, despair clawing at my throat, choking off any semblance of reason.

Oh, Dante. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.

“Angelica!” Alphonse’s voice cut through my anguish. “I need you to focus. We have to get you out of here. Now .”

“I can’t just leave you to my father,” I choked out, wiping tears from my cheeks.

“Your life is in danger,” he said, each word a hammer striking the anvil of my resolve. “They know you’re here, and they’ll come for you. I won’t let that happen. I need you to leave Italy. You will be given a new identity, a fresh start. It’s the only way you’ll be safe.”

“Alphonse, I can’t?—”

“Angelica, please!” he implored, his voice a desperate whisper that clawed at my heart. “You have to trust me. I need you to live. I will do everything I can to protect you, but the only way to do that is for you to leave and let me go.”

I didn’t want to let him go. I wished I could run away with him as we had once planned. To leave this mafia life behind and start anew, but now I knew it was all a dream, a fantasy.

“One of my trusted soldiers will get you to safety,” he told me. His words were a stark reminder that staying here meant certain death. But the thought of leaving him behind twisted my stomach into knots, a cruel betrayal of everything we had fought for together.

Tell him Angelica .

I couldn’t get the words out to tell him that I was pregnant with his baby. The words clung to my throat like a noose, a secret that would shatter his heart and mine. The images of him not being there to cradle our child, teach them how to ride a bike, or read bedtime stories was heartbreaking.

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” I whispered. I searched his eyes, desperate for a gleam of hope, a promise that he would do whatever he could to survive this and make his way back to us.

“I promise,” he said, his warm hand finding my face. His thumb brushed away my tears, but more fell in their place. “When it’s safe, I’ll come for you.”

“Okay.” I nodded, a flicker of resolve igniting within the chaos. “Okay, I’ll go.” The words tasted bittersweet on my tongue, like ash in a fire that had once been warm and bright. “For you,” I added. And for our baby , I said to myself.

“Good,” he replied, his voice sharpening with determination. “Now, go. I’ll handle your father.”

I swallowed hard. In Alphonse’s vocabulary, that meant a silent promise of death. A part of me should have crumbled at the thought of the love of my life taking my father’s life, but instead, I felt nothing.

As Alphonse turned to his men, I took a deep breath, steeling myself against the uncertainty that awaited me. The world outside was ruthless, a labyrinth of danger and despair, but I had to trust in Alphonse and the memory of Dante, whose sacrifice would never be forgotten. I would carry their legacies with me and fight for the life I dreamed of, even if it meant walking away from the man I loved.